


That Celestial Light

by SimplyBlueiis



Series: The Taxi!Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, M/M, Shy Castiel (Supernatural), Teenage Castiel/Teenage Dean Winchester, Teenage Dorks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:46:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28886319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimplyBlueiis/pseuds/SimplyBlueiis
Summary: While attending theatre camp together, Dean and Cas plot out their final performance for the end-of-the-season recital.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: The Taxi!Verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2118282
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	That Celestial Light

**Author's Note:**

> This is unbeta'ed. I welcome constructive criticism of any kind. 
> 
> I'll be honest, I don't really know what I'm doing here. This is the first I've written in close to twenty years. It's not exactly like riding a bike. I have an idea for how these characters move from point A to point B. I hope you might consider coming along for the wobbly ride, and I'll do my best not to accidentally drop you along the way.

_This one time (fifteen years ago) at theatre camp..._

“I’m telling you, it’ll work!” Dean dragged his feet through the sand, leaving a visible, winding path as they crossed the beach. It was shaping up to be a perfect day, with the sun shining overhead, the shouts and laughter of the other camp kids far enough away not to be bothersome to the pair of them down by the lake.

Next to him, Cas sighed and crossed his arms. “I suppose. I just don’t think –“

“Stop. I know what you’re gonna say, man. But trust me. You’ll be able to hold their attention, I’ve heard you speak. I’ll just move around whatever words you choose.” Dean bumped their shoulders together, leaning into Cas’s side with an easy familiarity.

“How? How will this work?” Frustrated, Cas thrust a hand through his long, dark hair. A slight breeze played with the ends, teasingly pushing it into his face.

Dean glanced sideways at him and rolled his eyes. “Just give me five minutes with some scissors…”

“Shut up.”

Cas dropped his shoes and sat on the beach, pulling his knees to his chest. Dean folded down next to him, his lithe movements making Cas feel uncomfortable in his own skin. That was the problem. Over the past month, he’d learned that Dean did _everything_ gracefully. He constantly drew the eye, whether he was walking across the camp or performing onstage. People were simply pulled into his orbit, whether he was actively performing or not. He was like sunlight unleashed after a week of rain. Cas had _no idea_ how he’d ended up with Dean glued to his side, but he’d given up on trying to figure it out. He preferred just basking in Dean's glow.

“Get out of your head, Cas. Have I steered you wrong yet this summer?” Dean picked up a smooth piece of seaglass, flicking it in the air and catching it in his nimble fingers. He ducked his head, trying to catch Cas’s downturned eye. When that didn’t work, he booped the other teen in the nose.

Swatting his hand away, Cas sighed. “No, of course you haven’t. It’s depressing how often you’re right.”

“Then work with me, man. It’ll be different and awesome. Everyone else will be doing solo performances or acts from Shakespeare or some shit. We can do something cool for the recital.”

Giving up, Cas leaned back on his palms, burying his fingers in the sand and stretching his legs out before him. “Explain it to me again.”

Dean grinned, reaching out his hand to run it teasingly down Cas’s barely-there stubble until his friend swatted his hand away, huffing in annoyance. Dean was _so tactile_. It probably came from being a dancer, constantly touching other people. Cas’s body no longer felt like it belonged just to him, with Dean’s constant casual touches. As an only child with distant parents, it was an odd sensation, but one which he’d quickly come to crave. And he didn't like to think about _that_ too deeply.

The freckled teen settled in the sand and got down to business. “It’s a pretty simple plan. You perform a monologue and I dance to it.”

“Why does it sound so simple when you say it that way?”

Dean booped his nose again. “Because it is. So what are you gonna recite?”

Cas glanced down, knowing Dean was hoping he’d say something current, some action movie soliloquy or Paul Bettany’s short monologue from _A Knight’s Tale_ , God knows he’d mentioned it often enough over the past few days.

“I was thinking about Satan’s speech from ‘Paradise Lost’.” He chanced a sidelong glance at his friend.

A brief frown passed over Dean’s face. “I don’t know it, but if you think it’ll work, I’m on board. Do you have it memorized?”

Cas released a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Dean’s easy acceptance of his suggestion brought a warm glow to his heart. He tucked the thought in a box and shoved it to the back of his mind.

“Not yet, but here, I can read it.” He pulled his phone out of his pocked and opened the search bar. Dean tossed away the piece of glass he’d been playing with and spun around to drop his head into Cas’s lap. His forearm shielded his eyes from the bright sun while he waited for Cas to find the poem and start reading.

Cas wiggled into the sand a bit more and propped an arm on Dean’s chest as he squinted to see the screen.

“Here it is. Ready?” Dean nodded against Cas’s thigh.

_“Is this the Region, this the Soil, the Clime,  
Said then the lost Arch-Angel, this the seat  
That we must change for Heav'n, this mournful gloom  
For that celestial light?” _

Dean listened as Cas read Satan’s speech about arriving in Hell, the melodious words flowing smoothly from Cas’s mouth. While he might not have it memorized, he was clearly familiar with the text.

Cas finished the verse and dropped his phone in his lap. “It’s not very long,” he said apologetically. “I don’t know if you can make it work. We could pick something else.”

“I like the part about ruling in Hell instead of serving in Heaven,” Dean replied with a smirk. Cas shoved his shoulder in retaliation.

Dean sat up and played with the hem of Cas’s shorts, brow furrowed. “I think it could work. Especially if I recorded some guitar to play in the background. If you read it slowly and added some pauses for the guitar, I can put together movements to go along with the words. We can use the guitar to tie it all together and stretch it out a bit."

Cas smiled for the first time all morning. “Do you really think this will do?”

Dean threw back his head and laughed. “Cas, this isn’t the end of the world. It’s the final performance at a theatre camp for teens. You say some stuff, I’ll move around onstage, people will clap and talk about how avant-garde it is to mix classical literature with modern dance. And if they hate it, who cares.”

In spite of himself, Cas snorted out a laugh. “I hadn’t thought of it as avant garde. Hey, stop shredding my shorts!” He grabbed Dean’s hand in both of his to stop the other teen from picking at a loose hem. Dean flipped their hands easily until their fingers were threaded together, and stilled.

Blue eyes met green for a long moment. Pasting on a wobbly smirk, Dean raised his free hand towards Cas’s face, rubbing teasingly at his stubble. “So avant garde,” he breathed.

Without losing eye contact, Cas reached out and covered Dean’s hand with his, holding it against his cheek. This was a _moment_ , right? He wasn’t misreading the social cues? “Dean, I –”

Whatever he was about to say was lost as Dean leaned forward, pressing their lips together in a soft, chaste kiss. Cas stilled, his heart thumping madly.

Dean drew back, a blush suffusing his freckled cheeks. “Sorry, Cas. What were you gonna say?”

Blinded by sunshine, Cas took a startled breath and opened his mouth to speak before he abruptly leaned forward and planted his lips on Dean. With a relieved exhale, Dean used the hand on his cheek to tug Cas closer, and for a long while, neither one of them spared a thought for Hell.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're curious, Cas reads lines 242 to 270 of Paradise Lost by Milton. You can find it here: https://www.dartmouth.edu/~milton/reading_room/pl/book_1/text.shtml


End file.
